


A wheel in reverse

by burgundyburied



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, helen and michael are wlw mlm solidarity, in which nobody dies and everyone is friends okay, no beta we die like men, tma but without the spooky murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22212865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burgundyburied/pseuds/burgundyburied
Summary: That one where Michael doesn't die
Relationships: michael shelley & helen richardson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 109





	A wheel in reverse

**Author's Note:**

> Your soul is connected to the world you're in,  
> You're draggin' it down with the weight of your sin,  
> surrounded by temptation and you just give in  
> we're fallin' into the flames.

_The Distortion_ _(MichaelHELENMichael-)_ _screams_. 

It is a horrid, wretched sound, the sound of Michael in Zemlya Sannikova when he reached the centre of the maze, the sound of Helen, stepping from the sanctuary of the Archivist's office only to find herself straight back in her nightmare. The sound of a thousand others as they lose themselves in the twisting, changing, frustrating winding of The Spiral and succumb to its kaleidoscopic terror.

-

It- he- Michael, the bits that were, are and will never be Michael again- hadn’t wanted to hurt her. At first. He’d- it- they’d just wanted to check up on her. That was all. Michael Shelley had liked Helen Richardson. They had gone to the same knitting and reading club, held by a local library in an attempt to maintain relevance, there were not many people there, and most were unwelcoming, being set in their ways. Michael Shelley was too young for most of them to care about, too masculine, too feminine, too stuttering, too well- Michael Shelley. But Helen had been nice, had welcomed him with a small smile, they’d become friends, complained about their jobs, gossiped about other members, got tea together and pointedly didn’t ask each other about their families, of which both had none.

She’d even knitted him a jumper. He- Michael Shelley had worn it for weeks around the archive, it had kept him warm and…..fuzzy inside. Until Gertrude had made a pointed remark about it not being “that cold” and he’d sighed and stored it away.

Only to be taken out again when packing for Zemlya Sannikova.

He’d never forgotten it though, the warmth, the fuzziness in his chest that spread and swallowed him whole. (He thought it must be a bit like what hugs were made of.)

But she hadn’t recognised him, in the house. He’d told her that no, he was not Mr. Lombardi, but that Mr. Lombardi wouldn’t be coming, so he was here instead, and she had nodded. No recognition in her eyes, no familiar smile.

She

Hadn’t

Recognised

Him.

The Archivist had not just taken Michael Shelley, but the twisting had taken even Helen.

So he took her.

-

_ It (heSHEthey?who?MEnoHer) screams. _

It is not a good sound, even for them. It is being unmade, torn to shreds and rubbed sandpaper raw. Michael has failed. He is too distracted by The Archivist, too emotional to be The Distortion. The system has malfunctioned and he will be replaced.

The part of if that was (is) Michael howls, it doesn't want to die, it can't die, not again not this time-

Helen isn't ready.

She wanders his halls like he did, her mind beginning to show the wear and tear that will soon rip the seams and reshape it in a new image. But she still seethes, still stays strong to her selfness, and recites listings to keep herself together.

Michael wasn't ready, Michael failed. Helen is not ready, if they truly take her now (and it must have a host) she will only fail like Michael.

-

Helen is afraid. No- Helen is far past afraid, Helen is Furious. How dare he? She should have known it was a setup when that “Head Archivist” had known The Thing’s name, but no. She just walked straight through the door and right into its lap. Like an idiot.

Maybe she was an idiot, to keep walking, keep wandering through these halls, for all she knows she’s going further from the entrance, closer to the monster. She takes one look at her own distorted reflection staring back at her in one of the mirrors, in this one she’s the Archivist, sitting sternly at her desk while a tall, lean woman with close cropped hair and a scar over her eye who she has never seen before brings her tea. It’s not the worst thing the mirrors have shown her, but it unsettles her nonetheless, she feels it watching her, twistedly. She decides to keep walking.

The next time she sees that thing- that Michael- she’s going to make him wish he was never born.

(No matter how familiar his face seems to be)

-

Unbidden, the part of it that was (is) Michael Shelley sends it images. The Archivist, alongside its Watcher. Agnes of The Desolation, alongside Jude Perry. Breekon, next to Hope. Mike Crew alongside Simon Fairchild. And it-

Hmm. It (he) has a point. Two avatars is not uncommon, in fact one is unusual. (A disadvantage? Unacceptable.) Michael is faulty and Helen will be too. But two wrongs are a right, two rights a left, and three lefts a circle and so with a hewing, blistering groan it  _ creaks _ and divides. 

Michael stands, panting with exertion from his desperate effort to stay alive, besides a door that will swing open when he calls. While Helen emerges, newly made, no longer angry but still more Helen than he was every Michael, from a new door. A bright mauve. And surveys the situation. He eyes lock to Michael.

"I'm-," she says, pausing, flinching a little at the abrasive grating she will later accept to be her voice now. Its unnaturalness is nausea inducing but strangely fascinating. Strong. Dangerous. "You?" 

He grins back, layers of sharp shark-like teeth filling his mouth far too widely to fit properly. 

"Better." he replies, before taking her hand, they step together, back into the hallways and for the first time Helen makes a connection between this thing, this being and the small skinny boy named Michael Shelley. Grins back wider.

The doors slam shut behind them.

John, still tied up to Nikola’s armchair, sighs. “Great, now there’s two of them and I’m  _ still  _ trapped here.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I made this tumblr post and it refused to leave my brain unless I gave it a blood sacrifice and now here we are, with less than a day to revise for a test I'm supposed to care about.
> 
> I don't know how to put links because i'm babey despite having actual computer qualifications so: https://cirquegothiqueus.tumblr.com/post/190165821379/helen-richardson-and-michael-shelley-would-be
> 
> All feedback is good feedback 0u0


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